Next he's going to say he's buying a butterfly farm

I ran into The Ex-boyfriend a few nights ago. I was chatting with The Devil, thinking about how much I do not enjoy his company, when I spotted The Ex across the way. So, like any good date, I jumped up, exclaimed "there's The Ex!" and ran away to go hang out with him.

The Ex just returned from Costa Rica. His 4-week stay became a 7-week stay, as I expected it would. I actually didn't think he would come back at all, but he figured that he should probably see his family in Wisconsin, where he hasn't visited in over five years. Plus, he owns a home here on the beach, so he had to come back eventually.

But his stay here will be a short one as he bought property in Costa Rica in Playa Zancudo and he's selling his house here to move there in January. Yep, the bastard is living my dream. The property he bought has 7 or 8 cabinas on it and a restaurant; the property also comes with a personal chef and a gardener. You can see his neighbors across the street here. Then you can come down to Fort Myers and watch me gag because this whole thing makes me sick.

Really, I am happy for him and not at all surprised that he's leaving the country again (he spent 4 years in southeast Asia). I would be happier if he didn't brag about the butterflies down there ("Remember the morphos we saw in Key West? In Zancudo, they're the size of your head!"). I would be happier, still, if I were going down there to live with him. I am going down in February, of course, and now that he has a place we can visit, our trip may actually begin to take shape. The Ex is fully aware that I am willing to trade sexual favors in exchange for a cabina.

[You didn't think I returned to The Devil, did you? No, no, The Devil left and text messaged me something about how much he hates The Ex. I went home with The Ex, like I always do when I run into him. Sucked in the morning, though, when I woke up and I all I could think about was how much I still love him. Then he had to go and be all boyfriendy and call me later to ask how my day was, chat about my trip, etc. What a jerk.]

In other news, I am not amused. Yes, I am referring to the hilarious Cone of Possibility (alternately: Funnel of Uncertainty, Wedge of Ambiguity) posted on the National Hurricane Center website. I know it's still a long way off and that it could very well miss the entire peninsula, but the very idea that a hurricane -- a hurricane named after a letter in the Greek alphabet because we're out of names, no less -- could threaten us at Thanksgiving greatly disturbs me. Granted, people in more sensible locales have to worry about ice and snow at Thanksgiving, but I live in Florida and this is supposedly dry season. That means NO HURRICANES. I don't want to deal with a storm during snowbird season. The damn Yankees kvetch so much anyway ("Why does it take so long to get everywhere? How do you people deal with this traffic? Why do we have to wait so long to get a table at a restaurant?" Uh, because you and your snowbird ilk are all here at the same time. Fort Myers is actually quite pleasant the rest of the year), I can't imagine the pandemonium that would ensue should they be without power for more than a few hours. It's enough to make you say "oy."

Anyway, check out the Playa Zancudo pictures -- especially the black sand beaches. You can still join our trip! You won't have to perform any sexual favors for anyone to go with us!